


A Match in the Making

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Harry wants to feel useful, so he takes up a hobby: matchmaking. What happens when someone else decides that he’s the one who needs to be matched?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Match in the Making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilyseyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/gifts).



> **Warning(s):** Rimming, suggestion of public sex, AU
> 
> Lily requested ‘bonding, rimming, semi-public sex, chan (15+), threesome, mpreg - oh, and fluff! I hope I succeeded.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader, the fabulous Sevfan.

***

A Match in the Making

***

“Honestly, Ron, this has got to stop.” Hermione was stabbing at her lunch to emphasize her words and for a moment Ron worried for her utensils. “He’s obsessed, and it’s not healthy.”

Ron shrugged. “You know _I_ agree,” he muttered, “but it’s not as if he’s listening to either of us right now.” He shook his head. “You know what I think? I think that whole killing Voldemort thing sent him around the bend.”

“What he needs is a real job. Maybe then he wouldn’t have time to act as matchmaker to all his friends,” Hermione snapped.

“He _had_ a real job. I can’t say I blame him for leaving Auror Training, though.” Ron took a sip of his drink. “It was rough, and you know Harry. He wanted to help people, not hex them, well, not unless they deserved it.” Ron pursed his lips. “Maybe he needs another Dark lord to kill.”

“Bite your tongue!” Hermione shook her head. “And helping people is all well and good, but this is ridiculous.” Hermione was now mincing the bits of cucumber in her salad into a paste. “To think that we were worried about his obsession with Malfoy sixth year. This is infinitely worse!”

“You know I agree with you,” Ron repeated, eyeing her untouched roll.

Hermione, evidently deciding that her salad had been massacred enough, pushed aside her plate and Ron quickly snagged the bread. “George told me that Harry called him the other day. Tried to set him up with Luna,” he mumbled around the food.

“And? Was it horrid?”

Ron sighed. “No such luck. George said he had fun with her and that they have plans this weekend.”

“Oh God.” Hermione covered her eyes. “That means he’s going to keep trying to set people up!”

“I’m afraid so.” Ron patted her hand. “At least there’s one good thing.”

Hermione looked up at him. “What’s that?”

“He’s not trying to set _us_ up with anyone at the moment.”

“That we know of,” Hermione said. “I caught him a couple of days ago asking Ginny if I was dating anyone. Mark my words, it’s only a matter of time before he tries to set me up, too.”

“I wonder if he’s planning to match me up with anyone?” Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And get between you and...Hannah is it? Unlikely. That _is_ who you’re dating this week, right?”

Ron blushed. “Yeah... Oh look! There’s Harry!”

Hermione huffed, but as Ron hoped, she immediately shifted her focus to Harry and away from him. She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s that with him?”

Ron groaned. “Looks like...”

“Hullo, you guys!” Harry said, seemingly very cheerful as he led Draco Malfoy by the arm to their table. “Look who I found outside. He didn’t have lunch plans, so I said he could join us.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance. “Ferr--Malfoy,” Ron muttered, adjusting the name when Hermione kicked him under the table.

“Weasel, I mean Weasley,” Malfoy greeted smoothly, settling into a chair.

“And you remember Hermione, don’t you?” Harry said as he sat down.

Malfoy shot a look Harry’s way. “We all went to school together, Potter. Of course I remember Granger. Hullo.”

“Right, yeah, of course you do.” Harry was smiling and Ron had a sinking feeling. Harry couldn’t possibly be thinking what he thought he was thinking. Could he? “Well, as I mentioned, I didn’t think you’d mind if Malfoy joined us for lunch. He was just saying how difficult it is meet people and--”

“Potter!” Malfoy was now bright pink, and Ron settled in his chair to watch the fireworks. Harry had really lost his mind this time.

“I should have thought that Malfoy knew enough people,” Hermione said coolly.

Malfoy met her glance evenly. “I know a lot of people in Azkaban, but not many who are out in the world at the moment.”

“Pity.” Hermione didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic and Ron couldn’t say he blamed her.

Malfoy shrugged. “Potter said this was a good place to meet people, but if you’d rather I left you all to your lunch then I--”

“Stay,” Harry said firmly. “I’m sure Hermione was just being, um--”

“Polite?” Malfoy asked dryly.

Hermione blushed. “I was not, but as Harry says, we are having lunch, so there’s no reason you can’t sit here while we have it.”

“You didn’t eat very much of it,” Malfoy observed, eyeing her plate. “And is that some sort of cucumber paste? I didn’t know they had that.”

Hermione cleared her throat as Ron chuckled. His wand buzzed and he clutched it. “Bloody hell, I forgot an appointment. I have to run, but I’ll see you all later,” he said, standing up. He paused. “Well, most of you, anyway.” Catching Hermione’s eye, he silently telegraphed his sympathy, and before she could say anything he was on his way. He only hoped he wouldn’t miss anything too good.

***

Harry watched Ron’s retreat with mixed feelings. On the one hand he’d anticipated the most antagonism towards Malfoy from Ron, but on the other this left him as the ‘third wheel’ with Hermione and Malfoy; not a position in which he particularly wanted to be.

“So, um, Hermione is engaged in research at the Ministry, Malfoy. Isn’t that what you’re doing, too?”

“My research is primarily into the deleterious effects of Dark artefacts on the general wizarding population,” Hermione replied, now apparently engaged in trying to reduce a piece of bread to dust with her fingers.

Malfoy inclined his head. “Mine is centred around attempting to find ways to reverse those effects,” he said. “Interesting that we’ve never run into one another there.”

“Isn’t it?” Hermione muttered, now taking her frustrations out on another hapless slice of bread.

As the stilted conversation continued, Harry began discreetly looking around the bustling restaurant, trying to locate someone who he could excuse himself to talk to. If Hermione and Malfoy were to have a chance to find some common ground, it would only be if they were alone together. He blinked as he spotted the last person he would ever have expected to see. “Oh, I just saw someone I really need to speak with,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Keep talking, I’ll be right back.”

Well aware of the twin pair of eyes boring into his back as he scurried away, Harry made a beeline for the man he’d spotted, hoping against hope that they could manage a civil conversation, long enough for Hermione and Malfoy to get past the awkward stage anyway. Harry was sure that they would be good together; they were both, after all, brilliant.

“Potter. Wonderful. Just who I’d hoped to see on one of my rare forays into the general public.”

 _Right, so civil might be pushing it_. “Hullo, Professor Snape,” Harry said, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from him. “Do you mind if I sit here for a moment?”

“First, as I have reminded you on other occasions, Potter, I am no longer anyone’s professor, thank Merlin, and second, what in our previous unfortunate association would lead you to believe that I would have any desire to share a meal with you?”

Harry smiled. “Severus, then,” he said, almost laughing at the look of outrage that crossed Snape’s face. He held up a hand. “Before you hex me, just give me a minute, all right? I need your help.”

“Have I ever struck you as the philanthropic sort?” Snape growled.

“Please? Just hear me out.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose there _are_ too many witnesses here for me to use any of my more satisfying hexes to be rid of you,” he finally ground out. “Very well, you may sit, if you try to be silent.”

“Er, well, I sort of need it to seem as if I’m talking to you,” Harry said, trying to sound apologetic.

“Indeed.” Snape closed his eyes for a moment. “What hare-brained scheme are you attempting to involve me in now, Potter?”

Nodding towards the table he’d just left, Harry leaned forward. “I think Malfoy and Hermione would be good together, don’t you?”

“This is about matchmaking?” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to stave off a headache. “You are attempting to involve me in a matchmaking scheme to pair Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. I do believe you have finally lost what little mind you had, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “I know they have some spotty history, but then so do we, and look, we’re practically friends.” Snape drew a deep breath, and Harry held up his hand to hold back the diatribe that was no doubt about to spew forth. “I know, I know! I _said_ practically.”

“Leaving aside the absurdity of us ever being friends,” Snape snapped, “it still remains that you are attempting to pair two of the least well matched people I can think of! Hermione Granger is of decent intellect as is Draco, but that is their only area of compatibility.”

“What d you mean?” Harry frowned. “You’re not going to bring up that pureblood nonsense, are you? Because the entire Malfoy family renounced that stuff and I believe them--”

“Aside from the inherent difficulties in believing anything that Lucius Malfoy professes, there is the little matter of Draco’s...preferences.” Snape took a sip of wine. “Is he aware of your plan?”

“What? No, not really.” Harry blushed. “I invited him to lunch and he seemed okay with it, though--”

“Perhaps because he thought he would have a chance to have lunch with _you_ ,” Snape said dryly. “Did you see fit to inform him that others would be present at this lunch?”

Harry frowned. “Not really. I thought it’d be easier if I just got him here and then let nature take its course; make things seem more natural, you know?”

“Indeed.” Snape closed his eyes. “Natural. Well, I suppose it could provide the opportunity for an amusing spectacle. I am not sure who I would bet on in that fight.”

“You think they’ll fight?” Harry asked. Then, he smiled.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Dear God, is this you thinking? I can practically smell the burning. What are you plotting now?”

“Well, it seems to me that if there’s passion enough for fighting then there’s passion enough for other things between them, you know?”

“Idiot. By that rationale you and I could be considered perfect lovers.” Snape speared a bit of salad into his mouth and as he chewed, Harry blinked, wondering why the idea of Snape as a passionate lover suddenly didn’t seem like such a farfetched one. _I bet he’d be intense..._

“Ah well, it was a good dream while it lasted,” Snape murmured, jolting Harry out of his momentary daydream. For a second, Harry wondered if Snape’s Legilimency had somehow discerned his thoughts.

“What was?” he asked nervously.

Snape nodded towards the table Harry had left. “No hexing appears likely now,” he said. “It appears Draco is doomed to eat lunch with Miss Granger and his father.” He smiled. “Now _that_ should make for some exciting conversation.”

“His father?” Harry spun around. “Mr. Malfoy is here?”

“He just arrived.” Snape smirked and took another sip of his wine. “Well, well. This should get quite interesting.”

Harry groaned. Interesting was the last thing he needed right now.

***

Draco watched Potter leave, incredulous. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“What is?” Granger was watching him closely, and Draco narrowed his eyes as he pondered just how much he could share with her.

“I agreed to have lunch with Potter and then he walks away before we’re even served.” He leaned back, deciding to play. “Comes from being raised by Muggles, I suppose.”

Granger’s eyes went arctic. “You--”

A smooth voice interrupted whatever Granger had been about to say. “Dear me, Draco. It’s obvious that Miss Granger is perfectly charming and _her_ upbringing is fairly similar to Mr. Potter’s.” Lucius slid into Harry’s abandoned chair and smiled at Granger. “Please excuse my son, Miss Granger. He is not accustomed to the company of beautiful young women.”

Granger blinked and coloured. “Er, excuse me?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Father? What are you doing here?”

Lucius inclined his head. “It’s a restaurant, Draco. I have a luncheon appointment, but when I saw you and your lovely companion, I thought I would stop and say hello.” He pinned Draco with a glance. “I thought you said you were having lunch with Potter.”

“I’m supposed to be,” Draco muttered. “But he wandered away.”

“I’m back. Sorry about that!” Potter, looking harried, rushed up to the table, and Draco smirked as Potter held his hand out to his father. “Oh, hullo, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Mr. Potter.” After shaking Potter’s hand, Lucius didn’t budge, so once it became clear to Potter that his chair had been purloined, he took the other seat. A moment later Lucius turned towards Granger and began a surprisingly involved and knowledgeable sounding discussion concerning Arithmancy and her research for the Ministry.

Draco sighed, recognizing the look in his father’s eye. Admittedly Granger had turned into a reasonably attractive woman, if your tastes ran that way, and his mother had relocated to France to pursue her own interests, but it was still embarrassing to contemplate his father dating one of his schoolmates. Not that his father would care anything about his opinion.

Draco briefly contemplated subtly trying to warn Granger, then mentally shrugged. It was likely his father would catch his signals before she did, Gryffindor that she was.

Turning back towards Potter, Draco decided it was time he got _something_ from this luncheon. “So, Potter,” he said, leaning forward. “Am I to have your undivided attention from now on, or is there someone else you need to speak with?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh sorry about that, I, er...”

“Not that I blame you,” Draco continued, eyes darting towards Snape’s table. “He only gets more attractive with time, doesn’t he?”

“He...who...what?” Harry looked flustered.

It was a good look on him, Draco decided. He smiled. “Severus Snape,” he clarified. “He’s a very attractive man.” Looking Potter up and down, Draco decided to be a bit more blatant. Potter, too, was a Gryffindor, after all, and they were not known for appreciating subtlety. “There’s just something about a darkly handsome man,” he murmured. “Gets me all...tingly.”

“Tingly? Er, are you all right?” Potter asked, looking concerned. “You look a little flushed.” He held up a glass. “Do you need some water?”

Draco rolled his eyes. Apparently he needed to be even more obvious. “I admit I’m thirsty,” he purred, his eyes deliberately lingering on Potter’s mouth. “But not for water, _Harry_.”

Potter’s mouth dropped open. “What?” His eyes widened as if the import of Draco’s behaviour suddenly struck him. “What are you talking about?”

“Dear me. You honestly have no idea?” Draco sat back and slid a quick glance towards his father. Hopefully, Lucius hadn’t been watching his momentary lapse. To his surprise, good fortune seemed to be smiling on him; Lucius appeared to be caught up in talking to Granger and was paying no attention to Draco’s antics.

“No idea about what?” Potter was staring at him.

Draco relaxed slightly. “Surely you must know that I’m gay,” he murmured, letting his finger lightly graze the back of Potter’s hand.

Potter swallowed, the movement of his Adam’s apple making Draco’s mouth water. “You’re what?”

Draco smiled. “Homosexual,” he enunciated clearly, if softly. It wouldn’t do to have the preoccupied people across the table overhear this. “You _are_ aware of what that means, yes? I’m not going to have to explain in detail to you, am I?”

“What? No! I mean, yes, of course I know what it means,” Potter blustered. “And no, I had no idea. I thought--”

“Is that a problem?” Draco interrupted, noticing that Potter hadn’t yet moved his hand away. _Not the reaction of an absolutely heterosexual man..._ He relaxed even more. _Time to have some fun._ “I thought everyone at school knew. Unless...” He smiled slyly. “Is this your misguided attempt to help me change my life?” He nodded in Granger’s direction. “You really thought we’d be good together?”

Potter blushed. “I...I--”

Draco shook his head. _Time to see if he’s up for this._ “I can’t believe you stalked me for an entire year and you didn’t know I liked men.”

“I didn’t stalk you!”

Several people turned their heads and Potter bit his lips and lowered his voice.

“Everything all right?” Lucius asked. Draco noticed that Granger was allowing his father to touch her sleeve. He sighed.

“Yes, fine,” Potter replied. “Thank you.”

“Well then...” Lucius stood and Granger rose with him. “Miss Granger hasn’t yet seen the gardens here and she has accepted my offer of a tour.”

At this, even Potter looked concerned. “Hermione, are you sure that--?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said. She slanted a glance up at Lucius, and for a moment Draco wondered just who was stalking whom. He raised an eyebrow. Well, well, perhaps his father had met his match. As they strolled away, Potter turned back to him.

“I may have sort of stalked you,” he admitted more softly. “But it wasn’t as if I was looking for...that,” Potter protested. “I thought...well. You know what I thought. And I was right! The school was in danger.”

“Mm, I suppose you _were_ more interested in the Dark Lord than in me at the time.” Draco sniffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Well, now that you’ve made it painfully obvious that you’re not interested in me--” Looking away as if wounded, Draco bit his lip in a way he thought would elicit some sympathy. “I never thought you’d be this deliberately cruel about it, though.”

Potter reacted beautifully, his jaw dropping open. “What? No, I--”

“No? So you’re not rejecting me?” Draco smiled slowly.

“I--” Potter ran a hand through his ridiculous hair. “Can we start this conversation over? Please?”

 _Not a chance. Not when I have you just where I want you._ “Of course,” Draco murmured, getting to his feet. “A walk in the gardens, perhaps? Get some fresh air?”

They strolled outside and thankfully, his father and Granger were well ahead and still engaged in their murmured conversation. They did not appear to be paying them any attention.

Draco began again. “Now that we’ve established that you’re not interested in me,” he said as they walked, “perhaps you can explain why you asked me to lunch.”

“But I _am_ interested in you,” Potter said.

“Oh?” Draco stopped abruptly, forcing Potter to stop as well. “So this is our first date?” He smirked. “A bit uninspired...”

“No. I mean...” Potter blew out a frustrated breath. “Honestly? I don’t know what I mean right now.”

Draco hummed. “I that case, maybe you’re curious enough to go out on a proper date with me.”

Predictably, Potter baulked at that. “I don’t really think--”

“That’s quite obvious,” Draco murmured. He smiled. “Right, so if you’re not sure, then maybe you could set me up with someone else. Someone who’s more my...type?”

Potter licked his lips and Draco nearly groaned. “I wouldn’t know who--”

Waving his hand, Draco cut him off. It was time to wrap this up. “Oh, of course you do.” He smiled. “I’ve already told you.” Potter’s blank stare made Draco sigh. “Fine, since apparently I can’t have you, why don’t you set me up with Severus?”

Potter’s eyes widened in alarm. “Um, what? Snape?! He’s not gay.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You _are_ joking, right?” At the dumbfounded look on Potter’s face, Draco shook his head. “You really did have a one-track mind in school, didn’t you? You mean you honestly had no idea?”

“No! How would I?” Potter scrubbed a hand over his face. “God, was I that oblivious?”

It took every bit of restraint Draco had to refrain for answering that clearly rhetorical question. Instead, he just smirked.

“Okay, so, you like Snape?” Potter looked perturbed at that, and Draco smiled inwardly, an idea forming.

“I do, indeed. Tell you what, Potter. Perhaps the three of us could get together for dinner, you could, um, chaperone or something.”

“Snape doesn’t exactly like me,” Potter said. “I don’t know if--”

Draco waved his hand. “Oh, it’ll be fine. Just get me into the same room with him and I can take care of the rest.” He smiled. “Unless you want me for yourself--”

“No!” Potter appeared to have reached the end of his rope. “Look, Malfoy, I tried to get you and Hermione together because I thought it would work. Clearly I was wrong. Can’t we just forget this whole thing?”

“I think you _do_ like me, Potter,” Draco murmured. “I think you’re just afraid to admit it. After all, it’s not as if you’re dating anyone at the moment--”

Potter’s eyes went wide. “Snape!” he blurted.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re dating Severus? Really? The way you were talking about him before makes that difficult to believe, but he’s very sexy, so I can certainly understand that.”

“Understand what?” a whiskey-smooth voice asked from behind him. Draco, startled, turned to see Snape standing there.

“Nothing!” Potter said, eyes wild.

Draco smirked. “That Potter here has a thing for you.” He pursed his lips. “Although, now that I think about it, it should have been obvious, really.”

Snape’s mouth fell open for a moment. “What?” His eyes darted between the Draco and Potter.

“Yes, it surprised me, too,” Draco murmured, fighting to keep a grin off his face. This was too good! “It’s a shame neither of you are exhibitionists. I’d pay good money to see that.” He sighed forlornly.

“Money?” Snape focussed on Draco, eyes narrowed as if attempting Legilimency. “How much money?”

Potter was still gaping, soft protesting noises escaping him as he looked back and forth between Draco and Snape. “Err...”

Draco smiled wickedly. “How much money would it take?” he asked.

Snape, clearly over his brief moment of surprise, smirked back. “Five hundred thousand Galleons should be adequate,” he said.

“What?” Potter cried. “No way!”

Pursing his lips, Draco remained silent, allowing Snape to think he was actually considering such an outrageous sum. “Potter’s right,” he finally said. As Potter stared at him, Draco continued. “That does seem inordinately high. I would require some guarantee of _participation_ for that much money.”

“What? No! Stop it!” Potter yelled, face red. “You cannot possibly be serious about this--”

Draco glanced up at Snape, who had an oddly yearning look on his face. A moment later, Snape was staring back, and they had a moment of silent communication. Draco smiled. “Relax, Potter,” he said, cutting off the rest of the shrieking. “Seriously, it was just a joke. You really need to develop a better sense of humour.”

“A joke?!” Potter was panting as if he’d run a mile. “This was all a joke?”

Draco held Snape’s gaze for another long moment. “Of course,” he eventually said. “Surely you didn’t think we were serious?” He inclined his head, silently telling Snape to take over the conversation.

“Indeed,” Snape murmured seconds later. “We were just engaging in a bit of fun at your expense.” He raised an eyebrow and looked away from Draco and straight at Potter. “Surely you’re accustomed to that by now?”

Potter glared at both of them. “Fucking bastards,” he muttered. “I thought...”

“What?” Draco asked when Potter stopped talking. “That we were really contemplating a threesome?” He smiled. “We wouldn’t do that. Well, unless you really wanted us to.”

“Malfoy!”

Draco held up his hands. “Kidding.”

Snape snorted. “As amusing as this has been, I must be going,” he said. “Gentlemen.”

As Snape walked away, Draco noted that Potter seemed inordinately fascinated with the flow of his robes. “So, where were we?” he murmured, suppressing a grin at Potter’s flinch. “Ah, yes. Dinner, Saturday night.”

“Wait, what?” Potter swallowed convulsively. “I thought we established that Snape doesn’t like me.”

Draco shrugged. “It looked as if he tolerated you well enough just now,” he said. “In fact, he was teasing you. Seemed almost friendly.”

Potter blinked. “You know, that’s true, but--”

“Excellent!” Draco reached into his robes and pulled out one of his address cards. “Here are my Floo coordinates. Let me know the details about dinner. Time, place, that sort of thing. Somewhere private would be best, unless you truly _are_ an exhibitionist.”

With that, Draco spun on his heel and walked away, leaving a sputtering Potter behind him. From the corner of his eye he saw his father glance over, and he inclined his head but didn’t slow down.

Lucius just smirked and went back to what looked like a fairly determined seduction of Hermione Granger. Draco sighed. It appeared as if he would need to be out of the house a lot in the coming weeks. _Potter’s home had better be acceptable. It looks as if I’ll be spending a fair bit of time there._

***

Harry began to panic when the third restaurant owled him back to say that they had no reservations available for Saturday night. Seated at his desk, he reread Malfoy’s letter outlining the restaurants he thought were acceptable for their ‘three-way date’. _If you can’t get reservations for Chez Luis or Armando’s, then I suppose The Mallory is a possibility, although they tend to be booked several months in advance._

Harry rolled his eyes. _No shit!_ His owl back from The Mallory had said the same thing. Not even using his name had helped him. The restaurant manager of Chez Luis had offered him a reservation for Friday, but apparently Saturday was out of the question.

Glancing back at Malfoy’s letter, Harry read the last line again. _I suppose that if you’re unable to procure a reservation somewhere we can always convene at your house. Don’t you live at Grimmauld Place? Let me know once the arrangements are made. DM._

With a sigh, Harry shoved the parchment aside and wondered why he hadn’t tried to get another house-elf after giving Kreacher to Ginny as a wedding gift. _Because Hermione would have killed you,_ a voice in his head reminded him.

“So now I’m stuck cooking for Snape and Malfoy,” he muttered. “Wonderful. What the hell do I do now?”

A quick search of the library at Grimmauld Place revealed only a single cookbook, and as Harry thumbed through it, he realised there was no way he was attempting to make any of the recipes there. They were far too complicated.

As he pondered this dilemma, the Floo sounded and Molly Weasley stuck her head through. “Harry?”

“Hullo, Molly.” Harry smiled at her. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, dear. I was hoping you had a minute to come through.”

“Er, sure, what’s happening?”

“Neville is here, he’s helping Bill de-gnome the garden. Anyway, they could use a hand and I thought perhaps you come over.”

Harry blinked. “Yeah, of course I can. Um, Molly?”

“Yes, dear?”

“While I’m there, is there any chance you could show me how to cook a few things? I’m having some people over for dinner on Saturday and I need some help.”

“A dinner party?” Molly smiled. “Of course, Harry. Come on through and we’ll talk about it.”

When her face was gone, Harry grabbed the Floo powder and threw it in, feeling much better. After all, if anyone could help him plan a menu, it was Molly.

***

Hunting gnomes was hot and dirty work, and by the time they had finished, they were all ready for tea. Luckily, Molly had anticipated that. “Have a seat, everyone,” she said cheerfully, setting the teapot, a plate overflowing with sandwiches, and several dishes with scones and jam rolls in front of them. “There you go!”

They fell on the food, and in short order all but a couple of biscuits and one forlorn scone were left. “Thanks, Mum!” Bill muttered, sitting back in his chair and patting his belly. “That was great.”

“It really was, Mrs. Weasley,” Neville chimed in. “I do love your cooking.”

“Mmm,” Harry agreed, swallowing the last of his jam roll and washing it down with some tea. “So, um, before I forget, will you show me how to cook someone dinner?”

“Of course I will, Harry.” She smiled. “Are you having some nice girl over, then?” she asked as she bustled about. She missed his wide-eyed look of fear.

Luckily, Bill came to his rescue. “Aw, leave him alone, Mum,” he said, eyeing Harry speculatively. “He’s allowed to have a private life.”

Molly sighed. “Yes, of course.” She patted Harry. “I don’t mean to pry, dear. Tell you what, I’ll come up with a lovely menu for you, shall I? One that will impress anyone; from a nice girl to the Minister himself.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, shooting a grateful look Bill’s way as Molly left the room for a moment.

“Don’t thank me yet, mate,” Bill said softly. “I still want to know what’s going on.”

“So, _is_ it a girl that you’re having over?” Neville asked, smiling encouragingly.

Harry blushed. “Not exactly.” He explained to his now very interested audience that he’d somehow been roped into setting Snape and Malfoy up on a date and playing chaperone. “So, as I can’t get any reservations at the sort of restaurants Malfoy likes, it looks like I’ll be cooking for them myself. I can’t believe that I got myself into this.”

Neville shook his head. “Um, Harry? Are you sure that’s all Malfoy’s after?”

“Huh? Yes, I think so. I mean, it’s clear Malfoy’s making me set him up with Snape. Why else would he insist on my chaperoning a dinner with the two of them?” He sighed. “I just can’t believe he roped me into--”

“Well, the thing is,” Neville interrupted, “that Malfoy’s always had a thing for _you_. Are you sure this chaperone story isn’t some sort of plot of his to get into your pants?”

“What? No!” Harry blushed brightly. “I told him that wasn’t possible.”

“So he mentioned it?” Neville smiled. “I dunno. Sounds to me as if he’s trying to seduce _you_ and not Snape.”

Bill chuckled. “I can see that. Malfoy strikes me as the sly type, although...”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Snape’s not easily fooled,” Bill said. “Seems to me that he’d have to be in on it. Otherwise it’d be quite awkward if you had him moving on Malfoy while Malfoy’s moving on you, unless...”

Bill and Neville exchanged a long, meaningful glance.

“WHAT?” Harry cried when neither man spoke for several moments.

“Are you _sure_ this isn’t their way of getting you on a real three-way date?” Bill asked, a smile playing about his lips. “You could do worse than Snape and Malfoy, you know. They’re both pretty fit, smart--”

“What do you mean by a _real_ ‘three-way date’?” Harry swallowed hard. “You mean...all three of us on an actual date? _Together_ , together?” Harry gaped. “I...but that’s...no...” He gulped. “Three people? All together? That’s so, well, decadent, isn’t it? Not to mention all sorts of wrong and--”

To Harry’s shock, Neville shrugged. “Why wrong? Sometimes it works.” He flushed and Harry stared. Was Neville saying that _he_ had..? Harry’s mind shied away from that thought.

“People would be shocked,” he muttered.

Bill grinned. “I notice that you’re not saying that _you_ object to a threesome,” he murmured, taking in Harry’s discomfiture. “I say if you have the opportunity you should take it.”

Neville nodded. “I agree. After all, you only live once,” and to Harry’s surprise, he reached over and clasped Bill’s hand. “It’s taken me ages to realize that.”

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them. “Wait, are you two--?”

“Together, yes.” Bill ran his thumb over the back of Neville’s hand. “And yes, Mum knows.”

“Wow.” Harry sat back. _Bloody hell, is everyone gay?_ “I had no idea.”

“There’s no reason you should have known,” Bill said. “We don’t publicize it, after all.”

“So, Harry, I think that if you’re interested in Malfoy and Snape, you should make them dinner and see what happens. You never know, this could be just what you need.” Neville leaned against Bill. “Anyway, we could be wrong. Just make them dinner and be open to whatever happens.”

“Harry,” Molly said as she bustled in, a stack of books floating behind her. “I’ve dug out my old cookbooks. Now, what sort of food were you thinking of having?”

As Harry pored over the books, he pondered all that Bill and Neville had said. Maybe there was even more to this dinner than he’d originally thought.

***

He had just set the table when Harry realised something was burning. “Oh fuck!” he muttered, sprinting for the kitchen. _Why didn’t I take Molly up on her offer to make this meal for me?_

The potatoes he’d placed in the oven to broil were dark brown and he snatched them out, cursing as he fanned them frantically. Inspecting one carefully, Harry sighed. “Maybe they won’t notice once the sauce is on them,” he muttered aloud. “I just hope I got _that_ right.”

“It depends on what type of sauce you’re using,” someone said.

Harry yelped. Spinning, he found himself facing Snape, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a bottle. “You’re early!” Harry blurted.

“Actually, I am on time,” Snape said.

Harry glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “I thought we agreed on seven?” he said. “That clock says it’s six forty-seven.”

“It must be slow,” Snape said, placing the bottle of wine he’d been carrying onto the kitchen counter. “Given that it’s _your_ clock I would hardly be surprised.”

Ducking his head to hide his smile, Harry sighed. “Of course,” he said dryly. “Would you like a drink? Firewhisky, perhaps? Or I could open this wine you brought.” He glanced at the bottle, surprised to see it was a name he recognised.

“Firewhisky will do for now,” Snape said. “The wine was intended to be consumed with dinner.” He moved towards the stove. “Is this the sauce in question?” he asked.

Snape was in his kitchen! It was amazing how larger than life he appeared there. Harry had always thought his kitchen big, but now, with the two of them moving about, it suddenly felt tiny. “Yes...” Harry blinked as Snape picked up the spoon next to the pot and dipped it in before dropping a dollop onto his palm. He bit back a moan when Snape’s tongue lapped up a tiny bit of the viscous sauce.

“Is something wrong, Potter?” Snape asked.

 _Oh God, I hope I didn’t make a noise._ “No, not at all.” Harry licked his lips. “Is the sauce okay?”

Snape closed his eyes and hummed as if evaluating the flavours. “It could use some rosemary and perhaps a bit of basil,” he finally said. “Otherwise, it is acceptable.”

“I...I have those,” Harry said. Turning around, he reached into the spice cabinet. He froze when, a moment later, an arm reached over his shoulder.

“Perhaps some pepper, too,” Snape murmured, his breath hot against Harry’s ear. For a moment, the scent Harry had always associated with Snape, that of fragrant herbs and oils, surrounded him. Harry closed his eyes, overwhelmed. “Are you all right, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered. _Aroused, but then, there’s nothing you’re likely to do about that._

“Are you sure?” Snape asked, seeming to hesitate before he moved away. “You sound...odd.”

“I’m sure.” Harry cleared his throat. Bloody Bill and Neville and their bloody talk of a threesome with Snape and Malfoy! God help him, but that had been all he’d been able to think of the past few days as he’d prepared for this dinner. He’d never wanked as much as he had in the past two days. “I’ve never cooked dinner for anyone other then my Muggle relatives, and that was hardly like this...” He smiled. “So I appreciate the suggestions.”

Snape stared at Harry, an unreadable look on his face. “Why are you doing this, Potter?” he asked after a long moment.

“What? Dinner?” Harry shrugged. “I told Malfoy I would, so...”

Snape made a rude noise. “Draco is a spoiled brat. I should not have thought you’d feel any obligation to play into his self-centredness.” He narrowed his eyes as if trying to see into Harry’s mind. “So, why?”

Making sure his strongest Occlumency shield was up, Harry held Snape’s gaze. “Now that the war is long over, I want people to move on,” he murmured. “What better way than to help them do that?”

“Indeed.” Snape still looked suspicious but somehow, the tension in the room lightened significantly. “This is out of some Gryffindor sense of obligation, then?”

“No. It’s because it’s the right thing to do,” Harry said.

Snape raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Harry sensed the topic wasn’t over. “Do you have meat in the oven?” he asked. “If so, I it believe it’s about to burn.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh shit!” Sprinting to the oven, he opened it and levitated the platter of meat out. “Thank you!” he said as he inspected it for singed areas. “I think you saved dinner.”

“It’s nothing more than I did for years as your professor,” Snape said dryly.

His head popping up, Harry smiled at Snape. “True enough, I guess. Thank you for that, too.” Their eyes held until Harry, self-conscious, cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, why don’t you go into the sitting room while I finish this and then we can have a drink and wait for Malfoy?”

Snape inclined his head. “As you wish,” he murmured, sailing out.

Harry exhaled a deep breath as he busied himself doing the last of the food preparation. When the hell had Snape become so bloody sexy, anyway?

After casting Warming and Stasis Charms over everything, Harry walked out into the sitting room carrying some appetizers. Snape had helped himself to some Firewhisky, much to Harry’s relief.

Harry poured himself one and, placing the platter of hors d’oeuvres on the table, sat down across from Snape. “So, um, what are you doing these days?”

Snape took a slow, savouring sip of his liquor, giving Harry ample time to watch the muscles of his throat work, before answering. “After I was acquitted, thanks to your testimony, I spent some time recovering at St. Mungo’s.” He reached for a savoury pastry appetizer as he continued. “I set up a small, exclusive potions shop just off Diagon Alley. It provides me with enough to live off. I maintain a flat just above my shop. Recently I have been looking into restoring Spinner’s End, although that may be a lost cause.”

“Oh, I dunno.” Harry gestured around them. “As you can see, I restored this place. It was pretty gloomy before.”

“That it was,” Snape said. He smirked, settling back into the chair as he consumed the last of his appetizer.

As Harry watched, Snape slipped his index finger into his mouth and sucked firmly. Harry groaned.

“Is something wrong, Potter?” Snape asked softy.

Harry, now finding himself harder than he could remember being in ages, shook his head. “No,” he managed faintly, the tiny functioning part of his brain wondering how he was still conscious since all his blood had so abruptly been relocated elsewhere.

“Hello?!”

Harry jumped as the Floo flared green and Malfoy, impeccably dressed, as always, stepped into the room. He smiled when he saw Snape and Harry sitting across from each other. “Ah, everyone’s here already. Am I late?”

“Not if you were planning to arrive for seven pm in another time zone,” Snape deadpanned.

Malfoy sent a positively sunny smile Snape’s way. “Why, Severus,” he said, gliding forward. “Did you miss me?” He glanced back and forth between Harry and Snape. “I thought you two would enjoy having a chance to...talk.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Harry asked, getting to his feet. “We were just having some hors d’oeuvres while we waited.”

“Mm,” Malfoy said. “The food looks delicious. You’ve outdone yourself, Potter.” Eyeing Snape’s drink, Malfoy said, “I’ll have whatever Severus is having for now.” Reaching into his robes, Malfoy pulled out a bottle of wine. “Oh, and I brought some wine for us to have with dessert,” he said.

Harry eyed the wine. “Snape brought some, too--”

“Excellent.” Malfoy smiled. “This is a dinner that can only benefit from a bit of added...lubrication.”

Harry bit his lip. How was he going to survive this evening? Silently accepting the bottle, he walked over to the bar, poured Malfoy a drink, then walked into the kitchen where he leaned against the counter and tried to calm his raging libido. _I am so fucked._ He closed his eyes. He could only hope it would be in the good way.

***

At the first taste of Potter’s cooking, Draco’s eyes widened. Raising his glass of merlot, he smiled. “My goodness, Potter. You really _can_ cook! I’m impressed.”

Predictably, Potter blushed and after a moment Draco turned towards Severus. “And this is an excellent food/wine pairing, Severus. I can hardly believe that you and Potter didn’t collaborate on this meal.”

Severus smirked. “I did assist with the making of the sauce, but that was the extent of our collaboration. The wine was an educated guess.”

“And a very good one,” Draco murmured. Very deliberately, he winked at Potter. “You’ll find that Severus is very good at...combining things. Must come from being a Potions master.”

Potter’s face flushed brighter. “So, um, does anyone want any more?”

“I’d love more,” Draco purred, leaning closer. “Oh, wait, do you mean more _dinner_?”

“Of course he does, Draco,” Severus said, eyes glittering. “Unless you are requesting an early dessert.”

“I would never do that, Severus,” Draco replied, enjoying the wordplay. “It would be rude. I believe in letting the host set the pace, don’t you?”

“Um, we can have dessert now if you’d like,” Potter said, looking back and forth between them. “And I can open your bottle of wine, too, Malfoy, if you like.”

Draco smiled. “It _is_ a dessert wine, so that would be lovely. Do you need some help? Sometimes opening things can be a bit of a...delicate operation, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose.” Potter had the oddly endearing clueless look on his face again. “Er, so are we all ready for dessert?”

“You know, I believe we are,” Severus said, staring at Draco all the while as he spoke.

Draco shivered. Severus had agreed to his suggestion that perhaps they could both seduce Potter, but at that moment Draco felt as if he was the one being hunted. He cleared his throat. “I’ll help you open the port, Potter,” he said, getting to his feet.

In the kitchen, Draco’s confidence returned, and while Potter’s back was turned as he rummaged for wine glasses, he decided to test the waters. “Mm, this is one of my favourite ports,” he murmured, moving closer to Potter. “You simply _must_ take a whiff of this.”

“Hm?” Potter turned around, his eyes widening to find Draco so close. He was trapped against the counter, however, and Draco used this to his advantage.

“Here,” Draco whispered, leaning forward and holding the neck of the bottle close to Potter’s nose. “Doesn’t it smell divine?”

Potter swallowed hard and licked his lips. “I’m not really a wine expert--” he began.

Draco placed his left hand onto the counter behind Potter, effectively trapping him. “Just inhale,” he coaxed. “It smells like plums and currants and cherries, doesn’t it? Imagine how wonderful this will taste along with that chocolate cake you made.”

“Yeah...” Potter’s mouth was open, his eyes half closed, and Draco lowered the bottle as he moved closer, his gaze lingering on those lips, still wet with the moisture from Potter’s tongue.

“Are we having dessert in the kitchen?” Severus’ voice, as rich and dark as the chocolate ganache that adorned Potter’s cake, washed over Draco and he sighed.

“No, I was just trying to give Potter a true appreciation of this port,” he said, straightening up. He moved away from Potter, immediately missing his body heat.

Potter blinked, looking as if he’d woken up from a dream. “Sorry, I’ll just bring the cake in, shall I?” Draco noted, with pleasure, that his hands were trembling.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “There is no need for that. If you wish to have a...private dessert then I can leave--”

“No!”

Draco smiled at Potter’s involuntary exclamation. “Mm, apparently everyone currently present is integral to dessert, Severus,” he said. “It looks as if you’re...stuck with us.”

Severus smiled and Draco sucked in a breath, the feeling of being stalked once again returning. “I suspect that Mr. Potter is the one who is stuck,” he murmured, stepping forward.

The kitchen, which had seemed large enough before, suddenly felt a lot smaller. As soon as Severus moved, Draco comprehended his plan and he, too, manoeuvred himself into position. Potter, of course, was the last to realise what was happening.

“Excuse me,” he said to Severus, trying to sidle around him.

Naturally, Severus didn’t listen, he simply pressed closer. Draco smiled and moved in to bracket Potter from behind.

Potter froze. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I think you know exactly what we’re doing, Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured. “I believe you have been aware of our plan on some level for several days.” The note in his voice made Draco go from half-hard to erect in an instant, and since Draco was pressed to Potter’s back, _he_ felt that immediately, of course.

“Bloody hell,” Potter moaned.

“Hopefully there shall be no blood spilt,” Severus said. He turned his body, somehow manoeuvring them all so that Draco’s back was against the kitchen island, his legs spread to support Potter. “While we have all had somewhat confrontational relationships in the past, I believe Draco and I had something much more pleasurable in mind than fighting.”

“The question is,” Draco whispered in Potter’s ear, “whether or not you’re interested in our proposed...dessert.”

“You both...planned this?” Potter asked haltingly.

Draco laughed softly. “At the restaurant, remember? In the gardens? You thought we were teasing,” he murmured, licking the shell of Potter’s ear. “We weren’t.”

“I knew you were up to something,” Potter gasped.

“You certainly feel as if you’re ‘up to something’ as well, Mr. Potter,” Severus said, the angle of his shoulder making Draco wonder where Severus’ hand was. Potter’s sudden stiffening followed by his boneless sagging against Draco a moment later explained _exactly_ where it was.

“Harry,” Potter whispered, his head now leaning on Draco’s shoulder, his mouth open as his hips moved rhythmically.

“Mm?” Draco asked, trying to see what Severus was doing. All he could see was a tantalizing glimpse of Severus’ wrist.

“If we’re going...to do this...call me Harry,” Potter said.

“Oh, I believe we’re already doing this, _Harry_ ,” Severus said, eyes blazing as he watched Harry fall apart in his arms.

“Oh God.”

“Are you close?” Severus purred, eyes locked on Harry’s face. “Do you wish to come now?”

“Please...”

He looked so close. “Come for us, Harry,” Draco said, and Harry did, arching his back and moaning as he came into his pants and Severus’ hand.

Severus, his hand still moving, leaned and captured Harry’s lips in a kiss. Pulling away, he then moved over to Draco, teasing his mouth for a moment before diving in for a long, leisurely taste.

“Oh wow.”

Pulling back, Severus looked down at Pott--Harry. “I believe you still owe us dessert, Harry.”

Harry blushed and licked his lips. “Um, yeah, of course.” He began to try to extricate himself from between Severus and Draco until Severus stopped him.

“You misunderstand.” Severus smirked. “You have, shall we say, had your dessert, and, as Draco and I have yet to do the same, perhaps a new venue is in order?”

Draco grinned. “We _are_ your guests, after all,” he continued. “It wasn’t very hospitable of you to take yours first.”

“Oh!” Harry blushed but then he lifted his chin gamely. “Right. So how can I make it up to you?” he asked, clearly beginning to get into the spirit of things.

“Oh, I think you know how,” Severus purred.

Still blushing, Harry nevertheless seemed up for it and Draco licked his lips. Gesturing towards the bottle of wine and the chocolate cake, Draco asked, “Should we bring these with us?”

“Later,” Severus murmured. “It appears we may yet have the opportunity to sample an _assortment_ of desserts.”

Harry grinned. “I like the way you two think.” Slinging one arm around Severus’ neck and clasping onto Draco’s arm with his other hand, he said, “Hold on.”

Draco relaxed just before the squeezing sensation of Apparation overtook him. It looked like this night was going to be all he’d hoped for and more.

***

   
As they landed on the bed, Severus glimpsed shades of green and gold but beyond that he paid little attention, focussed as he was on his companions. He waved his wand and smiled as everyone’s clothes vanished.

Draco, his hair tousled and silver in the dimly lit room, was lithe and sleek; his body exactly the way Severus had imagined it, pale and perfect. Harry, in contrast, was darker, stocky and powerful, yet also perfect. _Mine,_ he thought, _at least for tonight_. “Come here,” he rasped, watching as Harry rose and began prowling towards him.

Pulling Harry in close, Severus ate at his lips, finally diving in to sample and devour. Harry was making hungry little noises in the back of his throat, and Severus could feel Harry’s cock twitching against his bare thigh.

Dragging his mouth off Harry’s, Severus looked up and met Draco’s gaze. Dipping his head, he licked his way along Harry’s collarbone, all the while watching Draco. Finally, Severus raised an eyebrow and looked meaningfully towards Harry’s arse.

Draco got his meaning immediately, of course, and, with a grin, he grasped the top of Harry’s legs, spreading them apart.

“Wha--?”

“Shh,” Severus soothed, his mouth now next to the shell of Harry’s ear. “You’ll love this.”

“But what’s he doing?”

Severus held Harry’s hips steady as Draco positioned himself. He had an almost perfect view of Draco as he whispered something -- a Cleansing Spell, Severus imagined -- before dipping his head.

“OhGod!” Harry cried at the first touch of Draco’s tongue. “He’s--”

“Yes,” Severus murmured. “He is.”

Harry was trembling in his arms, desperate noises escaping him as Draco buried his face in the crack of his arse and licked. “Oh, oh, oh,” Harry was whimpering, and Severus simply held him through it, whispering encouraging words in his ear.

“You should see how you look,” he murmured, smiling as Harry’s breath hitched. “He’s eating you out and you’re loving it, aren’t you? He’s opening you up so I can have you, so I can fuck you.” Severus spread his own thighs, allowing Harry’s body to slip between his legs. “Feel how hard I am,” he purred, making small, rocking movements up against Harry even as Draco raised his head, his face wet. “Feel what I’ll be shoving inside you soon.”

Draco dipped his head again, and this time he used his tongue to trace a line up Harry’s spine until he was placing small, sucking kisses on the nape of Harry’s neck. “So, what do you want, Harry?” he asked.

“I...I don’t know.” Harry looked flushed and overwhelmed and _beautiful_ , and Severus, unable to resist, dipped his head to recapture those plump, kiss-swollen lips. He could feel Draco rocking against Harry’s back as they breathed into each other’s mouths.

Pulling away, he waited until Harry opened his eyes, then asked, “Do you want to fuck Draco while I fuck you?” His eyes flicked to Draco, who had moaned at his words. “He would love it.”

“Oh fuck--”

“He’s right,” Draco said, tracing the shell of Harry’s ear as he spoke. “I love having a fat cock in my arse. I’d love to have _your_ cock in me. And Severus--” he flicked a sizzling glance towards Severus, “--Severus knows that.”

“Please...”

That was all Severus needed to hear. “Oh, we will,” he promised, and with a sudden movement, he rolled them all, Draco assisting as soon as he divined what Severus was doing. In a moment, Severus and Draco had manoeuvred Harry around to face Draco, who was now lying flat on the bed, looking up.

“What are you--?”

“You’re going to fuck him,” Severus murmured, “at the same time as I fuck you.”

Draco smiled and spread his thighs as Severus pressed Harry between them. “Have you done this before?” Severus asked.

“Yes,” Harry panted, “but only with one person...”

“This is the same,” Draco said, smirking. “Only with double the pleasure.”

“Draco needs to be prepared,” Severus said. Slipping a finger into Harry’s loosened hole, he said, “After all, he already did it for you.”

“Ohhh.” Harry turned his head to look at Severus. “Wait, you want me to--?”

“I can take care of that,” Draco snarked, wriggling in his impatience. “Just get on with it before I decide to come without you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Severus. “Bossy, isn’t he?”

“You’re surprised?” Severus rolled his eyes. “You’re closer. You take care of it.” He sat back on his haunches to watch.

“With pleasure.” Harry swooped down and snogged Draco, even as he began to finger him.

It didn’t take much to push a second and even a third finger into Harry, who was rocking back against Severus’ hand even as he stretched Draco. Placing Draco’s legs over his shoulder, Harry moved in closer.

Draco was arching his back, epithets spilling from his lips as Harry prepared him, and when Harry finally positioned himself, Draco was bucking upwards, trying to impale himself.

Licking his lips, Severus watched avidly as Harry’s prick pierced Draco and he began to move in and out. “Feel good?” he whispered, positioning himself behind Harry.

“God, yes.” Harry’s head was bowed as he fucked Draco.

Severus cast a Stretching Spell. “Wait,” he said, moving in behind Harry. Both Harry and Draco froze, although Draco was cursing all the while.

“Fucking get _on_ with it, Severus,” he muttered.

“So impatient.” Fully seated, Severus closed his eyes as satin heat engulfed him. “So tight, Harry. “ He rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder for a moment. “Very well, Draco,” he finally murmured. “Prepare yourself.”

“Just get on with--Oh fuck!” Draco screamed as Severus slammed into Harry making Harry slam into him. “God!”

It took a few tries to get it right, of course; Harry kept trying to push back against Severus even as Draco followed in an attempt to hold onto Harry, but eventually their thrusts found a rhythm, and Severus, arms trembling with fatigue, set about fucking Harry and Draco with vigour.

The smell and sound and feel of what was likely some of the best sex he’d had to date overwhelmed him, and Severus set his teeth into Harry’s shoulder as his orgasm hit and he pulsed his seed into Harry’s arse.

Harry cried out, and even as Severus’ prick gave its final few spurts, Harry’s muscles began to spasm around it, pulling a guttural cry from Severus’ throat.

Draco arched his back and began to come as well, a splash of his seed catching Severus’ chin.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, Severus had just enough presence of mind to fall to the side, thus not crushing his bed companions. Harry gently lowered Draco’s legs from his shoulders before collapsing to the other side of Draco, panting. Draco moaned and stretched, a moment passing before he spoke. “Can we have cake now?” he asked. “I could really use some chocolate.”

Unable to help himself, Severus began to laugh. Yes, this would definitely be counted in one of his most memorable sexual encounters.

***

Harry woke to the feeling of an erection pressed into the small of his back and one into his thigh. It took him a moment to remember what had happened but when he did, a smile spread across his face.

“I guess that answers the question if you’ve any regrets,” Draco said, sounding amused.

Opening his eyes, Harry gazed straight into Draco’s eyes. “No regrets,” he said, blushing.

“Good,” Draco said, sitting up. “Because I need to stay here for a while.”

Harry rose up on one elbow. “Er, okay. But why?”

Draco made a face. “Granger has been spending a lot of time at the Manor, and--”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry interrupted hurriedly. “No need to go into details.” He bit his lip. “So do you think Severus will want to stay as well?” he asked softly.

“Do you want him to?” Draco asked, eyes sharp.

Harry nodded. “He’s welcome to.”

“That is very reassuring,” Severus said silkily from behind him. “Convenient, as well, since I, too, plan to stay.”

Harry spun around to face him. “You do?”

Severus smirked. “Indeed,” he said. “I mentioned that I am I the process of renovating Spinner’s End?”

Harry nodded. “That can’t be easy.”

“It isn’t.” Severus pursed his lips. “And you clearly have too much space for one person. It’s about time you shared.”

“I do owe you my life,” Harry said, beginning to grin. “I think we can work something out.”

“Great,” Draco said. “Now that that’s sorted, what’s for breakfast?”

Harry sighed. God help him but he would need to get a house-elf. There was no way he was going to be able to provide meals for three men, one of them a Malfoy. Then, Harry smiled. Hermione would have to overlook it, though, since she had practically moved into Malfoy Manor where they undoubtedly had all manner of elves.

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked.

Harry eyed his new lovers speculatively. “I thought we could start breakfast in bed,” he said. He got no arguments, and as Severus drew him down, Harry made a note to contact Molly as soon as possible. He might need more cookery lessons!

***

“Wasn’t it lovely?” Hermione dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

“Actually, I still can’t believe it!” Ron said. “Harry and Malfoy _and_ Snape? I didn’t think they’d allow that.”

“Three-way bondings are rare but not unheard of,” Hermione said. “And I think he seems much happier. He hasn’t tried to set anyone up for ages, after all.”

Ron snorted. “How would you know? You’re, um, taken.” He bit his lip before saying anything derogatory about Lucius Malfoy. The last time he’d said something bad, Hermione had practically wiped the floor with him.

Hermione blushed but continued gamely. “Yes, well, be that as it may, Harry told me he’s given up on matchmaking now that he’s made his best match ever.” She smirked. “Although I’m sure he’d be willing to make an exception for you. Didn’t you break up with -- what was her name?”

“Sarah,” Ron muttered. “And no thanks. With my luck he’d set me up with a Slytherin.”

Hermione’s eyes went chilly. “And what’s wrong with Slytherins?” she asked.

Wracking his brain to think of a way to extricate his foot from his mouth, Ron instead opted for distraction. “Oh look, there’s your, um, Malfoy now!”

Turning around, Hermione smiled as Lucius Malfoy approached. He bowed low to her, then inclined his head towards Ron. “Weasley.”

“Mr. Malfoy.” Ron took the opportunity to stand up. “I’ll go say hello to the new bondmates, then, shall I?”

Neither Hermione nor Malfoy noticed him so Ron meandered away. He hadn’t spotted a house-elf in a while and he was getting thirsty. Rounding a corner, he froze in shock at the sight he encountered.

Harry was on his knees, his lips wrapped around Snape’s prick, his head moving... Ron gasped. He apparently wasn’t heard, however, since Malfoy and Snape were too busy snogging as Harry blew Snape.

“Shit,” Ron whispered. He tried to look away but found he couldn’t. He wanted to be disgusted, to believe that the two Slytherins were taking advantage of his friend, but he couldn’t really convince himself of that. Not with the tender way Malfoy was cupping the back of Harry’s head, and the way Malfoy and Snape pulled apart and looked down at Harry with clear love on their faces.

Moving backwards, Ron tried to be as quiet as possible, finally turning tail and hurrying away.

Not paying attention, he ran smack into a small figure. “Merlin! Watch where you’re going, you great oaf!” a high-pitched voice cried.

“Parkinson?” Ron gaped. Bloody hell, Pansy Parkinson had turned into a looker. _With great tits._

“I’m up here,” Parkinson said dryly.

Ron blushed and looked her in the eye. “Er, sorry about that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m used to it.” Smirking, she tilted her head. “And at least it only took _one_ reminder for you to get the hint.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a quick study,” Ron said, charmed despite himself. “So, um, Parkinson, may I get you a drink?”

Parkinson pursed her lips. “Call me Pansy,” she said.

“Pansy, then.” Ron looked around. “Did you come to the wedding alone?”

She nodded. “I almost didn’t attend, but how could I miss Draco’s bonding? Plus,” she sniggered, “Potter said he thought I might get lucky if I showed up.” Slipping her hand into the crook of Ron’s arm, she smirked up at him. “Maybe he was right. He is supposed to be quite the matchmaker, after all.”

“Oh,” Ron said, escorting her in what he hoped was the direction of the bar. “He has his moments.”

***


End file.
